


Uncalculated Risks

by Different_approach



Series: Risk/Reward/Annihilation [2]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Animal Death, Bad Decisions, Biting, Blood, Breeding, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Facials, Knotting, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Scars, Secret Relationship, Tattoos, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Different_approach/pseuds/Different_approach
Summary: Sometimes you’re called upon to singlehandedly save an entire county from a murderous doomsday cult. And sometimes you end up sleeping with murderous doomsday cult leader’s sadistic little brother. Deputy Caleb Nylander is really good at staying alive and really bad at making decisions regarding his love life.(Meant to compliment the Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed fic Coming Down. This fic has spoilers through chapter 10 of Coming Down. Coming Down is much more plot-y. This is literally just because there was some interest in getting the Caleb/John scenes that are missing from that fic. There is no Staci/Jacob content in this fic, but it is referenced in the 3rd chapter)





	1. Chapter 1

Caleb liberates Sunrise Farm. 

Once the peggies are taken care of, members of the resistance descend upon the farm, moving swiftly to get the place back up and running. If they are to have any hope of holding out against the Cult, they’re going to need to achieve self-sufficiency in terms of food. Caleb can hear one of them radioing out, looking for an agricultural specialist, retired from the university, to come take a look at what can be done.

It’s been four weeks since the helicopter crash. Since Caleb ran and ran and ran, never looking back. Ran until his lungs felt full of papercuts. Had to stop running. Had to face the reality of Hope County.

While the resistance members set about organizing, Caleb rifles through anything he can find that might help him against the Seeds. Documents, recordings, manifests, odd collectors’ items. He’s up against an army here. And he’s just one man.

He spends the rest of the afternoon sorting through file folders, too tired to leave the outpost, his hands still stained with blood. He tries to ignore that part. Finding a slim diary, he opens the front cover, recognizing Joseph Seed’s handwriting clear as day. He’s picked up scraps of “Father’s” writings across the county. Mostly relics from the early days of the Seeds buying up land, slithering in and hooking barbs into the fabric of Hope County.

_John was so sweet as a child. So eager to please._  
Jacob blames himself for the change. If he hadn’t burnt down that barn. If he hadn’t run away into the service. If he hadn’t come back out a miserable drunk. If. If. If.  
Then maybe Johnny wouldn’t have gone into foster care. Then maybe his sweetness wouldn’t have twisted into cruelty. Then maybe he wouldn’t be like us.  
Jacob still doesn’t accept that this is the Lord’s plan. Jacob doubts. But I am unafraid. He will believe, in time. 

—

The peggies don’t take pharms. Caleb would happily take his, if there were any left to be found. He’s already blown though the week and a half’s worth he had in his current prescription, shoved into the bag he managed to salvage from the helicopter crash.

He doesn’t feel great coming off of them. He suffers headaches, too many of them, from everything starting to smell different, more intense. 

Father Jeffries says he’ll get used to it in time. Most everyone in the resistance is pretty much out of pharms by the sixth week after the crash. There are no new shipments in, and all of the pharmacies’ stockpiles have been raided. They’re running out of essentials too. Like insulin and antibiotics, blood thinners, thyroid meds. People are hoarding what they can, distributing things to those most in need; omegas with congenital heart conditions, where going into heat could be deadly; alphas who might be prone to paranoia after losing both their psych meds and their inhibitors at the same time. Caleb gets it, and weathers the headaches without complaining.

He doesn’t start exhibiting any weird behaviors, like those fiction films about life before modern pharms. He and Grace aren’t at each other’s throats, trying to fight for dominance or whatever. They work well together, work well apart too. They’re both efficient and level-headed, when it comes to taking down the peggies. The citrus-sharp scent of her skin isn’t in the least unpleasant. And though Caleb is pretty certain she’d never give him the time of day, he might drop hints once or twice that he’s always been down with taking it from another alpha. You know...stress relief in trying times.

Pulling Sharky out of that pile of rubble he brought down on himself just outside the pumpkin farm was a harrowing experience, but Caleb doesn’t attribute that to anything other than genuine concern for a friend. Sharky is really good at finding trouble, or, in its absence, making some. Looking out for him isn’t about the kind of doughy-starchy-half-baked bread scent of him. It’s because Caleb cannot figure out how he made it this far in the first place, and finds that innate survival instinct against Sharky’s own carelessness kind of charming. Besides, Caleb has never been with an unsuppressed omega before. Or an omega so much older than him...might be fun.

Okay, so that may or may not be the change in him. Caleb isn’t sure. Because he’s twenty-five and even on inhibitors, he really fucking liked to...fuck. And it really just could be the stress of this whole situation, but fucking into his fist just isn’t really cutting it anymore and he ends up apologizing about thirty-four times to everyone he comes in contact with for touching them so much. He doesn’t mean to. He’s usually really _good_.

Because more than anything else, Caleb thinks he’s a good person. It’s why he wanted to be a cop, genuinely to help people. He’s tall and strong, has the endurance, skilled at shooting. He wants to use those skills and traits to help people in need. That’s why he stopped running, turning to face the Seeds head on.

So he...he doesn’t tell anyone about his symptoms. They all are trying their best. Caleb doesn’t need special treatment.

—

His capture is little more than a hazy dream, the Bliss coiling through his veins. In the Henbane, he’s breathed it in, making his lungs feel damp and heavy, every breath a gentle labor, until he feels nothing at all.

But being shot through with it by the peggies’ dart, having it clog up his blood, is a different beast entirely. Caleb falls down in the dirt, his pistol skittering away. Hm, good it didn’t go off accidentally. Someone might get hurt.

When he wakes, the clouds breaking up in front of his eyes, he faces Joey Hudson. The lower half of her face obscured by a gag, her deep eyes wide and bloodshot, she stomps her foot the best she can with her legs bound in place.

She’s saying something, but Caleb has no fucking clue.

John Seed comes into the room, whistling, his fancy shoes tapping against the concrete floor. Caleb rolls his head back, looks up at the ceiling, the naked bulb above his head.

When Caleb breathes in, it’s the sweetest sugared smoke. Like cotton candy in his nostrils, the scent of cut grass and sunshine behind it. Fuck, he wants a taste. Fuck, he wishes he had his inhibitors.

John stands across from him, blue eyes bright and alert in the harsh light that only partially illuminates the room. He’s talking, always talking. Was supposed to be good at that. John was some fancy lawyer, once. Educated, refined, so unlike his brothers. So unlike Caleb, who went to the land grant school, got a bachelors without learning a lick of anything about anywhere outside of Montana. Didn’t seem important at the time.

Feels important now. Wants to be good enough for John.

What the fuck?

John who calls Caleb, “Wrath.” Caleb who says, “yes,” to anything John asks, so long as he can breathe him in.

John crawls into Caleb’s lap, spreading his thighs wide across Caleb’s hips and grinding against his abdomen. The heat between his legs searing even through the layers of their clothes.

Tied down like this, Caleb can’t lift a finger as John tangles his through Caleb’s hair, bringing their faces close enough to kiss. Smiling with his perfect, straight teeth, John looks at Caleb like he’s a fallen star caught in a glass jar. An impossible capture. Something beyond even selfish dreams.

John releases Caleb’s hair to thumb against the top button of Caleb’s flannel instead. With deft fingers he pops the button, with clumsy grace he rips the shirt underneath to press his hand to Caleb’s chest.

“Alpha…” John coos, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Through her gag, Joey tries to cough. Her tear ducts burst, water streaming down her face. Caleb is still too high on drugs and pheromones and pain to realize why.

Reaching over towards the table, John snatches up the waiting tattoo gun. He holds it delicately between his manicured fingers, beginning to carve, line by line. Slow, deliberate, so that Caleb feels every scratch. Not so painful, Caleb thinks, but maybe he’s too drunk on John. His vision narrowed to John’s slim, tight chest, his long throat. The scent of sugar mixed with cellulose. His body is firm and warm across Caleb’s lap, hotter, the longer that he works.

Minutes blur together. Behind John’s back, Joey keeps screaming into her gag, crying out. She’s terrified for Caleb. From the angle, she can’t see what they’re doing. 

Finished with his work, John leans over again to put the gun back on the table. “You want this, don’t you?” John mewls, one hand painfully over Caleb’s chest where he’s still raw, the other touching against Caleb’s belt buckle. 

About all that Caleb can control is his mouth, lunging forward and biting John’s chest where his dress shirt parts, exposing smooth, inviting skin. Teeth sinking down, down, down until he has John’s flesh between his teeth. Using his momentum, he topples the chair over, crashing on top of John. 

John’s eyes go wide, not fear, but arousal. Submission. But just as soon it’s gone. He shoves at Caleb, still bound in the chair, and scrambles out from underneath him. Bright eyes wide and panting heavily, John breaks into a smile, something feral and alert. He tells Caleb he’ll return. There’s a whole world of experience they’ve yet to explore. Together.

Caleb breaks into hysterics once John has left with Joey. This is fucked. This is so fucked. John didn’t even bother to right Caleb’s chair, leaving him laying on the ground. With a little effort, he manages to shimmy towards the table against the opposite wall. His chest hurts like hell and he can already tell he’s fucking up the ink beyond repair. 

The metal table’s legs aren’t quite properly filed down and Caleb uses the edge of it to cut the binds on one hand, freeing it up so he can unknot the others. More than anything, he’s relieved to be out from under the weight of the chair. 

No telling when John will be back, so Caleb searches for a weapon, finding a length of pipe that will do well enough.

There’s only one staircase leading down. No ducts or any other passageways Caleb can make use of. What fucking good would a duct be anyway? Caleb is too large to even fit.

He’s quiet taking the stairs down to the floor below, silent as he hides behind a stack of crates to listen. There are two peggies in the room. Caleb can hear them. Smell them too. It’s still hard for him to make sense of the information he gets through scent, but he’s trying.

Carefully, he gets in behind and chokes the first Peggie out, the pipe held tight across his neck until he slumps from the lack of oxygen. In the distance, there’s some machine that clanks loudly at regular intervals. Caleb waits until the sound is due and uses the noise to conceal his strike against the second Peggie’s skull.

He needs to find where John is keeping Joey. Closing his eyes and focusing, he tries to pick out John’s sweet smell. The one he just wants to bury his face in and breathe. God, he wants to do more than that. John is so goddamn _pretty_ , it’s maddening that he’s, you know, evil. Caleb isn’t sure he can work with evil. 

But instead of finding John or Joey, John finds Caleb first, rounding a shrouded corner in near silence and grabbing Caleb’s arm. “Come,” John says, his voice a plea as much as anything else. “Alpha, please.”

Caleb tenses at the touch, but instead of pulling away, instead of running, or fighting, he grabs John’s hip with his other hand, throwing them both against the wall. Pinning John in, Caleb presses the entire length of his taller body against John’s front. He has at least four inches on the omega and Caleb’s head spins when he realizes he’s broader as well. He’s so used to being a fucking beanpole, even next to omegas, that the realization of how easily he can overpower John hits him hard.

Hot against Caleb’s aching skin, John breathes, “Yes,” never letting go of Caleb’s wrist. He thrusts against Caleb’s body shallowly, spinning syrup in the air around them. Lowering his face to John’s neck, Caleb breathes in deep. The smell of forest is clearer there. Something cleaner, crisp and cool. He shoves his knee in between John’s thighs forcing him to spread around it.

“Not here,” John whispers, his eyes blown wide, “my room. Close. Please.”

Caleb resists the urge to hike John up, carry him wherever they need to go. As much as he keeps dipping in and out of rational thought, he understands why fucking John in the hallway might be a mistake.

John leads him by the hand, Caleb sticking so close that he keeps bumping into John’s ass. And what an ass it is. Small and tight in those fucking slim cut pants. Waiting to be ruined. 

Both their palms are sweating by the time they reach John’s private room. Once the door is closed, Caleb grabs John by his waist, picking him up and letting John wrap his legs around his hips. 

John is lighter than he expected, easy to balance as he stumbles in the direction of the bed. The air around them is thick, oppressive. Caleb feels like he might drown in it.

Tossing John into bed, Caleb grabs at his pants, getting the buckle loose and pulling them down his lovely slim legs until they get caught on John’s fucking shoes.

“Let me,” John scrambles, trying to sit up to reach his feet. 

Caleb shoves him back down with one hand to the flat of his chest, “I didn’t say to move.”

Under normal circumstances, Caleb wouldn’t see himself as an aggressive lover. He’s able to be kind, respectful. Taking as much as he gives back in return. Not that he believes himself to be particularly skilled, but he tries. He wants his partner to feel good. To want to come back. And he’s always thought himself flexible, open to trying new things, and enjoying himself too much to buy into alpha bullshit about always having to be in control.

But he wants John Seed to _submit_. He wants to chase that same expression of sweet arousal he saw earlier. The obvious pleasure John took in being pinned. Once he has John stripped from the waist down, Caleb climbs back on top of him, ready to make John _beg_.

Unbuckling his own belt, Caleb shoves down his jeans, stroking himself twice in quick succession, before John’s whines drag him back. He shoves two fingers into John’s mouth, pinning down John’s opposite hand as he reaches for the back of John’s throat.

“Get them wet for me,” Caleb coaxes, thrusting them in deeper until John gags around them. Throat fluttering in response. Would feel good around Caleb’s cock. “Gonna open you up.”

Most of the omegas Caleb has been with get wet without a problem. But it’s always easier to get fingers in first if they’re a little slick. Pulling his fingers back past John’s lips, he presses one to his hole instead, dipping inside with ease.

“Oh,” Caleb gasps at how slick John is already. Makes it easy to slide in the second finger right away. He doesn’t think John is in heat. But then again...he wouldn’t actually know? He’s only seen heats in porn.

What if John is in heat? Does that mean John can get pregnant? If the peggies don’t use suppressors or inhibitors, they probably don’t use contraceptives either. Panic sloshes in Caleb’s gut. But fuck, fuck, he wants John so bad it hurts. He aches for it. Wanting John close, wrapped around him, wailing out his name.

Caleb adds a third finger, letting go of John’s hand and wrapping his fist around John’s cock instead. Stroking in time with his fingers, Caleb tries to tear John apart, make the omega come and cry and cling. So sweet and just for him. 

“Alpha,” John thrashes his head from side to side, arching his back until his hips start to lift off the mattress. “Breed me, knot me, please,” John sobs, grabbing tight to the sheets.

Caleb thinks he might pass out if something doesn’t give. But he’s too scared now to put his cock in John. Instead he shifts his body higher, pressing their cocks together and wrapping his hand around them both as best as he can manage. 

“Can you come without something inside you?” Caleb asks, genuine in wanting an answer. The angle isn’t right to reach his fingers around to John’s hole, but he desperately wants John to come for him. To be satisfied.

“Your cock, please,” John repeats, “I’ll be good. So good. Just tell me what to do. I’ll be good. I’ll say yes.”

Caleb presses his lips over John’s mouth to stifle his pleas. Caleb knows he’s weak. He’ll give in to John’s demands. He’ll give into anything and everything if he listens.

John kisses with the same ferocity as his smiles, sharp and sure and so utterly perfect against Caleb’s mouth. Disobeying, he wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders and holds him close. Heat transferring between their bodies as Caleb grinds and strokes. 

Pulling away, Caleb whispers close to John’s ear, “come for me, pretty omega, please. John, you’re so good. So sweet.”

Another beat passes between them and John throws his head back, body tensing. He convulses beneath Caleb’s body, slick soaking the bedsheets. Caleb’s heart keeps racing as he sits back on his heels, still stroking his cock. He’s close, so close, aiming at John’s belly as he feels his abdomen tighten.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha please.”

“My name, John,” Caleb whispers, trying to make this more than a dream.

“Caleb,” John finally sighs, “Caleb…”

He comes across John’s stomach, mixing in with John’s fluids. God, he makes a pretty picture. His hair a mess, sweat sticking his expensive dress shirt to his skin, cum clinging to the dark hair just visible on his stomach, where his shirt is hiked up. There are tattoos there that Caleb can just barely see, scars, old and new mixed in between. A ruined canvas. Caleb still wants to fuck him until he’s open and raw and weak. That desire hasn’t ebbed. But it’s easier to ignore now in the afterglow. Even if he’s left annoyingly trying to tend to his own knot.

“Let me, alpha,” John offers, trying to pull Caleb back into bed, after he’s sat up.

Caleb gives up, flopping back down next to John. He expects a hand wrapped tightly around the base, maybe some careful milking until he’s dry. But instead, John slides down the bed so that he can lick around where Caleb is still swollen, working the shaft tightly in his fist.

Caleb tries to warn John that he’s about to come again. But John doesn’t pull away, still running his tongue against the knot, until Caleb spills into his hair and down the back of his neck. Oh god, if that’s not the hottest fucking thing Caleb has ever witnessed. John just keeps sucking and licking until the third spurt comes, this time pulling back far enough that Caleb stains his face with it.

“Come here,” Caleb paws at John’s shoulders, trying to drag him back up the bed.

John is pliant now, quiet as Caleb kisses him again, tasting traces of himself on John’s lips. Caleb will be swollen for awhile yet, but more than anything, he wants to soothe John, comfort him, care.

It isn’t until after his knot goes down, and John has fallen to sleep in Caleb’s arms, that the weight of what Caleb has done comes crashing down in the center of his chest.

Holy fucking shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Jake tells him it’s okay, kneeling down in front of him, holding him close, radiating warmth. “It’s okay, Johnny,” he repeats again. “It’s okay.”

Abruptly, Jake lets go. Joe reaches out to grab John instead, pulling him deeper into the dark void of their shared bedroom. John is so much younger. But there wasn’t room enough for another child. There wasn’t enough room for him.

The door creaks open and light streams in, casting horrific shadows across the floor. Twisted monsters that have started to crawl inside John’s dreams. In the mornings, Joseph listens to him recount the tales. Jake is always already gone when John wakes.

Their father smells like sweat, like liquor, like pain. Jake curses in his face, shoves him, until their father shoves him back. Jake is big now, as big as their father. Big enough that he could beat their father down. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because then when Jake is gone, he puts his hands on John, who is small. 

Jake is something called an alpha. So is their father. John knows that Jake lets himself get hit because of him. He cries in Joe’s arms.

The next year, Jake burns down the barn. The police take him away.

Joe tries to tell John it’s okay. He’s still here. Now it’s Joseph’s turn to protect him. Joseph’s an alpha like Jake and one day, when he’s not so little, John will be one too. John wishes that were now. 

Joseph isn’t as big or strong as Jake. Even if he is an alpha. He hasn’t had his growth spurt yet, all gangly arms and legs and teeth and ears too big for his head. Their father beats Joseph bloody. The police come again.

Their mother doesn’t say a word as John is whisked away. Loaded into the back of the squad car. He can’t see what becomes of Joseph. The lights are too bright and their father is still screaming.

The lady at the agency tells John his foster family will be nice to him. No more beatings. No more pain. John shoves his hands between his thighs and doesn’t tell her that the last time he was beaten was before Jake went away.

In his foster home, he has no brothers.

John tries to be good. To be loved. Polite and sweet and always in his place. And he tries to understand, like so many times before, why he deserves what his brothers had always endured for him so that he could be safe. He stays quiet while he’s beaten, asking God to help him correct his ways. But no answer comes.

He gets good grades; his teachers like him. He doesn’t speak out of turn. But still, he is wicked, and wrong. And he doesn’t know why. Please, he asks, if only someone would tell him _why_ , he’d do his very best to change everything about himself.

When he’s eleven, John catches a bird in his hands. Something his schoolmates said he couldn’t do. He stays silent as he approaches the little dull-colored sparrow, holding out his empty palm. John crouches low, hand extended, watching the little puff of feathers as it comes close. Needle claws hop onto his fingertips, black eyes staring back into blue. The bird tilts its head and behind him his classmates shout, “No way!”

John keeps the bird in his cupped hands until the end of recess, tiny wings fluttering against his skin, gentle chirps.

When it’s time to go inside, John can’t bear the thought of letting go. So he closes his fist instead.

—

John is scared, scared, scared. His body feels all wrong. He’s thirteen years old and burning up. Crying through the night. If he’s too loud in his otherwise empty bedroom, he’ll get in trouble. So he suffers as quietly as he can. He sees faces, hears sounds, shouting that he can’t discern. And he wonders if this is what he deserves? Just another punishment he’s meant to endure.

He tears at his flesh, trying to hurt himself worse than the pain he feels inside. The ache and the loneliness and terror. If he could crawl out of his skin, maybe it won’t hurt so bad, stripping everything away. Raw and bleeding.

John doesn’t understand. 

But, later, it’s explained to him. Omega. He’s an omega. Not an alpha like his brothers. His brothers he hasn’t seen in years. His foster parents take him to a doctor, once the bruises on his thin limbs go down. The doctor gives him pills to take, pats him on the shoulder, tells him he’s a man now that he’s presented, he should be happy.

But John still feels so small.

—

The room is sticky-sweet, like syrup instead of air. A heavy weight pushing down, down, down, smothering him with gentle pressure, until he gulps Caleb’s name, clinging to his throat.

Where is he? John doesn’t know? He’d gone to bed, knowing that his heat was fast approaching. Adhering to the schedule he’s kept since Father told him to stop taking his suppressants. Years ago, back in Rome. They’re not God’s will. Poor John, lied to all these years.

“John,” Caleb gasps, his hands on John’s abdomen, kneading slow, sure circles in his fevered flesh, where his shirt has just barely lifted away from his boxer briefs. “Oh, John, fuck.”

John’s eyes fly open to meet Caleb’s hazel ones, blown wide with arousal, his beard longer and less well-kept than last time they saw one another. He’s dressed in the clothes of the Chosen. And for a blinding moment, John is overcome with pure elation, giddy electricity sparking from every open pore. Caleb has joined with Father. John’s prayers have been answered. 

He was so good, for so long. Accepted everything God gave to him. Tried to give back as much as he could in turn. And now he has Caleb, beautiful, perfect Caleb, _alpha_ Caleb, is between his legs, against his skin. And he doesn’t have to _hide_.

“John, oh,” Caleb pushes John’s damp, limp hair away from his forehead, leaning over to kiss clammy skin.

Reaching out, John grabs Caleb’s shirt, pulling open the collar to see the evidence of their last encounter. WRATH spelled out in John’s letters, bold and black against Caleb’s perfect skin.

“Please, alpha,” John breathes, touches still feather light against Caleb’s skin. “Please.”

“You’re in heat,” Caleb muses, as if he’s only just now discovered. “John…”

“For you,” John coaxes, “it’s for you.” John’s head spins. Only for Caleb. Now he’s certain. He thought so, last time, when he had Caleb in his mouth. Caleb’s cum in his hair and across his face, he knew then that he is meant for Caleb Nylander. There isn’t another explanation that makes sense. This is his intended. He suffered, to find Caleb, for Caleb to find him. “Fuck me, alpha please.”

“We can’t,” Caleb hisses, “oh, God, John we can’t.” But despite his protests, Caleb’s hands are everywhere across John’s skin, rucking up his shirt, clawing at his back as he lifts John up off the mattress to hold him to his chest instead. “You’re burning up. Is this normal?” There’s panic in Caleb’s voice.

He’s never had an omega in heat before.

Father told John to spend his heats alone. Giving himself away when so vulnerable might put him and the rest of the family in peril. John needed to be strong.

But...if Caleb has joined Eden’s Gate, there’s no danger anymore. John breathes in deeply, letting himself float with the tide.

“You’ll take care of me, won’t you, alpha?” John clings to Caleb’s shoulders, tucking in his face at Caleb’s neck. He kisses against Caleb’s pulse, grinding in against him as he’s sprawled across Caleb’s lap.

“You’re soaked,” Caleb says, his awe palpable in the room. “John,” his fingers snake around John’s back, slipping under the band of his underwear. John lifts his hips, so Caleb can press his lovely, long fingers against his hole.

“There,” John pants, “there, for you. I’m for _you_.”

Caleb is the one who shudders, shoving two fingers at once past John’s rim. John squeezes at Caleb’s shoulders, already exhausted at trying to keep upright in Caleb’s lap.

Caleb kisses him, finally, finally. Wet and open, ready to devour, his teeth scraping against John’s lips, biting until they’re puffy. Until they taste of copper. His fingers work John open, plunging deep and curling, making John whine and pant and plead.

“I’m good, aren’t I?” John coos, as Caleb pulls away. “Feel how tight and good I am? Please, tell me...”

“You’re good,” Caleb whispers, leaning John back down flat against the mattress, his lean body hovering over top. Caleb pulls off his shirt, buttons snapping from cheaply threaded stitching as they snag.

John traces his work with his fingertips, stroking against each letter.

Caleb licks his lips before grabbing John by the hips, using the brunt of his strength to flip John onto his stomach. He tears at John’s underwear, pulling them down until they bunch tightly around his spread thighs.

“Yes, yes, yes,” John whines into the pillow, as Caleb’s hoists him up onto his knees to present. John arches his back and pushes back, tempting Caleb to finally soothe the ache his heat has spurred. 

But instead of Caleb’s beautiful cock, Caleb thrusts his mouth against John hole, licking against the rim while he holds John steady with both hands. John whines, still thrusting back into the pressure Caleb provides. But it’s not enough. John wants, wants so desperately, to be _filled and used and bred._. He wants Caleb’s cock in his hole and his hands pulling his hair and his weight pinning him in place and _taking_. He wants Caleb to _punish_ him for all the things John knows he’s done and all the things he’s done but doesn’t know. 

Caleb is still shaking as he pulls away, leaving John cold and desperate. John doesn’t know what he’s done wrong? He’s been good. Let himself be pushed and pulled and put in place. But still it’s not enough.

“Alpha,” he’ll do anything to be loved.

Caleb’s warm hand strokes gently against his back, steady, if still unsure. John can hear Caleb’s heart, pounding, terrified. Aroused.

Pressing the head of his cock against John’s hole, Caleb pushes in. He’s slow and too gentle. Too kind for John’s desires. For what he deserves. John throws himself back, forcing Caleb’s cock deep inside. He doesn’t mean to cry out, to show his pain at the sudden intrusion. But the relief it brings almost sends him spiraling into tears.

“Use me,” John rasps, “use me please...it’s what I’m good for, alpha.”

“John….”

“It’s what I want...Caleb, please. Please, please. It will help me. Just...please,” he buries his face against the pillow. He’s exhausted already, his cock hard and leaking between his legs. Filled with Caleb’s thick length but still unsatisfied.

“Okay, okay okay, okay,” Caleb chants as he starts to thrust, putting his hand on the back of John’s neck. He snaps his hips, rocking them both forward, putting strain on John’s arms, his back. “Good?” Caleb asks.

John wishes he wouldn’t ask. That he would just fucking take like he’s supposed to. Like an alpha who has won him as a prize. Who has put John in his place. But Caleb is so sweet. So right. And John is the one who is always wrong.

“Harder, please…”

Caleb grabs John’s hair, holding tight and slamming his cock back in. He doesn’t let go as he adjusts his angle to get better leverage, using his cock like a battering ram in John’s slick hole.

John grits his teeth, trying to keep quiet. Yes, yes, yes, like this. Tear him open, make it hurt. Take the hurt away.

Caleb grabs hold of John’s cock with the hand that isn’t busy in his hair, squeezing tight and fast and sending him careening towards as violent finish. Already his cock feels raw and worked, but it’s nothing compared to his hole split open on Caleb’s cock, dragging through him, fast and hard and overwhelming. The spun sugar scent neve waning.

John comes against the sheets, his hole squeezing sharply against Caleb’s expanding knot. Wordless mush in his mouth. Caleb tries to jerk out harshly, but the knot is already too large to slip free smoothly.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, John, shit,” Caleb panics, pulling John up onto his knees and against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck.” 

John can feel the first burst of Caleb coming inside of him, filling him up, breeding him. Tears wet against John’s neck as Caleb cries. The sourness that seeps through the room at Caleb’s fear.

Why is Caleb afraid?

“John, I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry.”

“Caleb,” John slurs, drunk already from Caleb’s seed. Receptive to whatever Caleb may next want from him. He’d do it all. Still riled up on his heat, he imagines himself on the floor, Caleb looming over him, ready to mete out punishment for John having disappointed him. His cock stirs at the thought of Caleb’s hands in fists, beating John down and making him passively obey.

Caleb turns them gently to lay on their sides, his hand resting on John’s stomach, pressing down until he swears he can feel Caleb from both sides, in and out. The meat of John’s abdomen trapped between cock and hand.

Another rush of come floods his insides and Caleb moans despite his distress, his mouth clamped tight to John’s shoulder as he shudders.

John tilts his head, expecting Caleb to move his bite from shoulder to John’s neck to finish what they’ve started.

“Oh, John,” he kisses where John wishes he would bite. “I’ll take care of you. I promise. I’ll make this right.” He pulls John tight against his body, their skin sticking from their sweat. “I promise I’ll make this right...I...you don’t...I can’t.” Caleb goes silent for several seconds, “I’ll save you….I will. I’ll make myself deserving of your love. Okay? Okay okay okay?”

John doesn’t know what Caleb is talking about? They’re here now, together. The Family will protect them both.

The air in the room grows sweet again. “I...I’ll make this right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point I just need to accept that I’m better at writing from the top’s perspective but hey, I tried.
> 
> If you need context about why Caleb is there and what’s going on, it’s in Coming Down. But basically he’s in John’s bunker to try and rescue Joey but he fucked up.


	3. Chapter 3

Caleb pulls John close, his arm wrapped around John’s waist. The fan in the corner of the room runs full blast, even though the air in the cabin is already cool. Caleb finds it easier to sleep with the white noise. Keeps him from thinking too much. Sometimes.

Though, right now, he’s wide awake, brushing his fingers over John’s flat abdomen. It’s still too early to feel a change, though Caleb can smell it, bright and sweet and perfect.

A baby. They’re going to have a baby.

Caleb’s chest feels tight and full and aching. Affection and terror in equal measures tapping at his ribs. The sensation comes and goes, but is strongest when he’s close. When he feels John’s heartbeat, can smell his skin. He worries about what will become of all of them.

“Hmm,” John hums, threading his fingers between Caleb’s, holding both their hands still in the darkness, “you’re worried.”

Caleb kisses the back of John’s neck, where dark hair gives way to fair skin. John’s body is a mess, torn up, covered over, tangled in scars that are obvious and those he won’t talk about. Caleb won’t force him to talk. But he wants to take the pain away. He wants to make his omega _happy_. As impossible as that feels.

“Of course I’m worried,” Caleb laughs into John’s hair. “This is a nightmare and a dream, and every time I think I’m about to wake up, I find that I’ve fallen further down the rabbit hole…”

“But you like it,” John breathes, his chest expanding and contracting under Caleb’s hands. His body is warm and yielding, as Caleb touches him, unlacing their fingers so he can stroke John’s chest instead. The texture of his battered skin still strange, unfamiliar. No matter how many times they share a bed now, every night feels like the hazy delusion they shared in John’s heat. Far away and too close at the same time. John’s presence always leaves Caleb drunk.

“I do,” Caleb admits, pushing John’s shoulder from behind so that he’ll roll onto his stomach.

John inhales sharply at being manhandled, his muscles growing tight and Caleb presses one hand in the middle of his shoulder blades to hold him down. Swinging his knee over John’s hips, Caleb straddles him. When John tries to lift his head, Caleb moves his hand from John’s shoulders to his neck, wrapping around and squeezing. “And you like this,” Caleb slurs, already feeling the effects of John’s scent swirling in the room.

“Yes,” John says, no longer trying to fight him. Reaching to his sides, John grabs hold of the sheets, gripping tight as Caleb rocks against him, letting Caleb’s cock press against his ass, sliding along the seam. 

“You wanna be my good bitch, babe?” Caleb asks, more comfortable now with the folds and dips and turns of John’s desires. How he wants to be broken down, put in his place, told that he’s good and he’s a whore and undeserving. But Caleb will love him anyway. He’ll kiss the monster sweetly, let John crush him in his palm. Broken bones and hearts can be mended. But John is beyond repair.

“Yes,” John pants, trying to spread his legs and raise his hips. But Caleb keeps him pinned.

“Like this,” Caleb tells him, “you’ll be so tight…” he hesitates, unsure still how far he can push himself, though he knows John will always accept the scraps he feeds him, no matter how bloody and brutal. “Your hole is all fucked out.” 

With one hand, Caleb parts John’s cheeks to get a better look at his hole. There’s barely any light in the room, and John isn’t actually loose at all. Caleb just knows that saying so will make John moan, make his cock twitch, his hole wet. Slowly, Caleb presses his thumb against John’s rim, watching as the digit disappears. Fuck, he’s tight. Even now, after Caleb has had him in his hands and on his cock for weeks.

Caleb dips his head down to bite hard into John’s shoulder blade. No matter how many times John offers, tilting his head just so and showing Caleb his neck, he won’t do it. He won’t bite. 

It’s a revelation, knowing now that Jacob went so far as to bite Staci, while Caleb can still resist the pull of John. Now, now Caleb knows for certain that he’s stronger, better, more in control than the Seeds will ever be. He’ll fucking win, and take John as his spoils.

Underneath him John hisses, gasping sweetly when Caleb cuts through his skin. The blood in Caleb’s mouth feels like cake, moist and extravagant, a treat. He tries to smear around the blood that wells up from John’s shoulder, fingerpainting along the canvas. But John clots too quickly, leaving Caleb’s fingers dirty.

John lies placid, his muscles tensing as Caleb swipes his cock between his legs, finding his hole soaked and pushing in. Caleb keeps his thighs on the outside of John’s legs, forcing him to keep his body taught and straight and tight as Caleb _takes_. 

Fisting his hand in John’s hair, Caleb pulls, forcing pretty noises through John’s throat and mouth, coaxing him to beg for it. Beg to be used and fucked and broken. Tiny shimmering pieces that Caleb will put back together later.

“Quiet, quiet, though,” Caleb reminds him, “Staci is in the other room. Do you want him to know? Want him to know how weak you are? How obedient? Want him to put you in your place too?”

From the strangled gasp John tries to hide in the softness of his pillow, Caleb knows he’s touched against something. That terrible, dark thing inside of John that is directionless, angry and embarrassed and violent. Why he’s John the Sadist, in a family of demons. 

“I should make you eat him out,” Caleb suggests, trying to _command_ John instead of ask. “Better yet, I’ll let him _fuck_ you. Knot your mouth while you take omega dick.”

“Alpha,” John pants, trying to grind his hips against the mattress where Caleb has him pinned, “anything, yes. Anything for you.”

Caleb yanks John’s head to the side, sticking three of his fingers on his other hand into John’s mouth at once. Shoving them deep enough that John starts to gag. He keeps pace with his hips, slamming brutally into John, skin slapping together as their bodies meet.

Below him, John gags again, Caleb’s nails clawing at his palate, his knuckles spreading his lips wide. His eyelashes flutter as he tries to control himself, tries to suck down properly on the blunt intrusion.

Caleb feels the exact moment that John begins to come, his trapped cock and hole twitching and tightening with release, trying to coax Caleb to _stay_. Oh, God, please _stay with me_. Caleb continues to grind his way inside, but is more gentle with his hands, now that John is spent, dragging his spit-soaked fingers down the curve of John’s back in gentle strokes. Cooing now that John did so well, so sweet. Just for him.

Caleb knots, white gauze covering his vision and his body feeling numb as he starts emptying into John. He sobs at the relief of finding his release, of forgetting himself and his mission, if only for ten seconds as John calls him, “Alpha,” and licks his lips.

Once he finds his footing, he turns them both onto their sides, careful now with John. He’s something precious, even if he’s wrecked beyond repair. Caleb knows that he doesn’t come back from Hope County pristine either. 

“I love you,” Caleb whispers, pressing his affection against John’s neck.

“Caleb,” John’s voice rasps, despite how quiet they’ve managed to stay. “Don’t...don’t leave. I love you don’t leave...”

“I won’t,” Caleb promises.

John falls asleep, not long after that. Caleb slips his cock out, but continues to hold John close, the cold air in the room chilling his skin where it’s still exposed.

In the morning, he’ll send John away with Staci. Someplace safe, to keep them away from Jacob and Joseph. He has to try and manage this situation. Or else, they all end up dead.

Caleb fears God. But not the God of Eden’s Gate, not a petty tyrant passing down false prophecies. He refuses to believe in a God who cannot love their children without blood sacrifice. But Caleb will make a martyr of himself if he must.

Better, though, to play the fool.


End file.
